


king for a day

by bloodrunsred



Series: just a little bit broken [7]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Autistic Morty Smith, Bottom Morty Smith, Death, Depressed Morty Smith, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Grandpa Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Incest, Lying Rick Sanchez, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Breakdown, Minor Character Death, Molestation, Murder, Non-Consensual Touching, POV Rick, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rick POV, Sad Ending, Self Harm, Victim Blaming, public bathrooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-07 23:05:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17969753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodrunsred/pseuds/bloodrunsred
Summary: par • a • digm:(Psychoanalysis) an idealized image of someone (usually a parent) formed in childhood.King Jellybean shifts the way Rick sees Morty ever so slightly. He still wants him.





	king for a day

**Author's Note:**

> another rick-fic! i see mr. jellybean from morty's pov a lot of the time and decided to try and make it work from rick's pov (which i think it did - if only a little!).
> 
> let me know what you think/what else you’d like to see in the future!
> 
> click [HERE](https://xbloodrunsredx.tumblr.com/) for my tumblr!

Morty's adventure has been fine.

Rick can't say that he likes it much at all but it isn't awful, not like he had expected it to be. He's having fun, doing what he normally does - drinking, gambling and being a nuisance to Morty in every conceivable way. It's average and, while Rick thrives on spontaneity, he can't deny the charm of its simplicity. It's wacky and zany but it's so wholly  _Morty_ that it's a struggle to keep an amused smile from his face.

There's only one thing that's  _different._

Morty.

Morty's sweating, fidgeting from foot to foot as tears well in his eyes, and his expression seems so horribly  _familiar._ Rick can't place it - he has to run through all the times he's  ever seen Morty hurt or sad or upset and he can't find anything to suit this place, this situation, until something just  _clicks_ and Rick's being shoved into Morty's bedroom at three in the morning with too many drinks in his system and no inhibition.

_No._

Rick had erased Morty's memories, but the face he had made is burned into Rick's brain, etched into the very lines of his being, and he lets Morty cling to him as murder drips onto his face more readily than blood from a body. 

It isn't fair, it isn't, because he was forced to take those moments away from Morty, sealing them away so he never, ever had to see that look on his face again (but he's becoming way too used to them and something that feels like guilt is always heavy in his stomach so it doesn't even matter), and some asshole just has to  _ruin_ it. It doesn't help that Morty is little, all bird-bone wrists and long limbs; it makes Rick want to protect him in the  ~~worst~~ best ways.

Morty doesn't say anything and his hair is a mess, sticking up in some places and plastered to his forehead in others, and Rick is  _surprised._

He already knows but he has to be sure because he had also known that Morty's adventure would be safe. "Oh hey, Morty," he says, with a calmness he doesn't really feel, "I'm - I'm really sorry about all that stuff I said earlier about your adventure. I'm havin' a good time, Morty. It's not so bad."

It wasn't but it's a whole lot worse now, when the kid looks like he had spent the last fifteen minutes (and, God, how had Rick let him be gone that long?) crying,  _"Please, please - no, stop-"_

"Let's just go home, okay? I'm calling it. The adventure's over." Morty sounds tired, but Rick knows Morty, knows him down to the cells that make up his entire body, and he's going to snap like a rubber band.

He still plays the part of calm grandpa, hoping it'll soothe Morty's frazzled nerves like it almost always does on adventures. It'll make it easier for both of them, and Rick feels more like a responsible grandpa than he ever has before.

"We can't leave now, Morty. I'm on fire!" They can't leave, not until he knows what happened and the bastard that did it is splattered all over the sidewalk (or, better yet, strapped down on a medical table with no anaesthetic).

This is a safe adventure, a Morty adventure, but here the kid is with stains on his t-shirt and stress lining every feature. Rick's supposed to be the only monster in Morty's life - it's safer, isn't it? Because Rick can take it away, and it isn't shocking for him to be more of an asshole than anyone expected, for him to take what he wants (even if it's wrong, no, no it isn't because he's just doing what he's always done). 

"Please," Morty's begging him, snapping, just like Rick knew he would as Rick focuses on the bean-person walking out of the bathroom, "p-please, Rick, I just - I just wanna go ho-ome, please-"

The bean-person looked hurt, small, Morty-sized welts littering his body that match the scratches on Morty's fists, his elbows. Rick pushes down the unnameable emotion that threatens to swallow him whole, and looks down at Morty before he can kill everyone in the damn pub.

Okay.

It's all going to be okay.

"Okay. Listen, Morty. I just won a bunch of shmeckels. Why don't we use twenty-five of them to pay Slippery Stair, here, for a ride back to the village, and then we'll - we'll give the rest of the shmeckels to the villagers, huh?" His hands find themselves at home around Morty's arms, and he's smiling even though he doesn't feel like it. He drops his hands when Morty sniffles, trying to be  _nice._

He doesn't know if this sudden respect for Morty's boundaries comes from lo- _affection_ , or if his brain is spinning a selfish plan he hasn't quite caught up to yet.

_God knows he hasn't cared before._

"Really?"

Rick would rather burn the world to the ground, but he takes a gentle hold of Morty's arms again (because he's seen him like this before and knows how far his touch will be tolerated before Morty kicks and shouts because it hurts), and smooths out his expression. It physically hurts him to let the bean-person go, but Morty's calming down and smiling and he's always going to be more important than a nobody, wannabe  _rapist_.

He's drunk but not drunk enough to deal with all the thoughts, affectionate and angry on Morty's behalf, that usually only pop up when he can't even walk right.

"Sure, Morty. Yeah. You know, a good adventure needs a good ending," he's changed gears - he doesn't care about making Morty's adventure a drag anymore, and he'll be damned if he doesn't make Morty happy by the end of it.

( _I_ _t's only okay when it's you,_ the voice is annoying and Rick can't find his flask in the jumble of his lab-coat pockets).

Morty's smile is radiant and it reminds Rick why he chooses to erase the better  ~~worse~~ parts of their relationship, even when regret weighs him down more than he's ever let anything. It also reminds him of why there's anything to erase at all.

Fuck, he's disgusting but he's never felt more right on the wrong side of the law.

 

*

 

They pay Slippery Stair, who is happy to get some of his money back after gambling it all away and they sit in silence. It's not as companionable as most of their silences are but it's not awkward either, which Rick counts as a win. He finds his flask and uses it to push down everything, from the still-building rage and surprising posessiveness that's captured his heart in a fierce grip.

Morty's shirt rides up and it's the most selfless thing he's done to date when he pulls his eyes away and tries not to think about it.

Morty doesn't hate him or fear him, and that's more than he can probably ask for - he loathes the day that Morty will look at him and  _see_ him without the blinders and haze molded from admiration and respect. Rick's never been good at lying to himself, and he doesn't doubt that it'll happen.

_Rick Sanchez is a selfish bastard._

Rick sits above the universe, on a throne built on the ashes of entire galaxies and the bones of those who defied him, but being with Morty makes him feel more powerful than toppling empires ever will. The universe is big, but Rick is bigger - and Morty's always been tiny in comparison. 

_Don't think about it._

He's trying and it's not working and he hates the world for making this so difficult for him.

Morty turns around to smile at him and he takes another drink. It squashes it all down again, making it easier for him to focus on plotting the bastard's death. This is new and different and he normally loves that, so he doesn't understand why his chest is squeezing uncomfortably and his alcohol isn't doing it's normal trick. He shakes his head and wonders why he didn't expect this.

Spontaneity is better on his terms.

 

*

 

They arrive, safe back in the village. Everything is good, and Morty's better which makes Rick feel tingly for no reason.

The villagers are appropriately grateful, and Morty smiles when he gets kissed on the cheeks by two women. Rick doesn't. They cheer and applaud and they're all very pathetic in their overeagerness, Rick thinks. He keeps his tongue firmly in his mouth, in his second nice act of the day - and he would think he was finally growing a heart if he didn't already know how completely and utterly ruined he is.

Morty's beaming and beautiful  _-no- no, stop it-_ and he's glad he pushed Morty into picking his own adventure, even if he'd like nothing more than to strangle the bastard that touched his baby.

"Good job, Morty," he half means it, "looks like you won the bet."

Morty looks down and rubs at his elbow, and Rick's entranced like he shouldn't be. Overprotective puts him in a mood, it seems. "Thanks, Rick," Morty says shyly and sounding much too child-like for Rick's comfort (even if it makes heat stir in the pits of his belly), "but I don't know if I should. You know, you were right about the universe. It's a crazy and chaotic place."

He says it with such actuality that Rick is worried that he's going to lose the star-eyed, amazed look on Morty's face every time they step through a portal for good. He can't have that, he can't, and it might be a little selfish but he leans down to look Morty in the face as he talks.

“Well, you know, maybe that's why it could use a little cleaning up every now and then, you know?” What is he _saying? “_ This one's wrapped up neat and clean because we did it Morty style.”

It's mostly true, he thinks, not really anything he'd normally say out loud but he likes the way Morty's face changes, and he wonders if he should be nicer to Morty after all.

He remembers how the kid looks when he cries, though, and decides,  _nah._

_Selfish. Bastard._

"Oh!" The villager that gave them the dumbass quest (that lead to Morty being hurt - he should kill this motherfucker too) spoke up. "Heroes, we would like to introduce you to our beloved king so that he may thank you personally."

Rick sees him.

He sees the injuries first and, wow, Morty had done a number on him. Morty hasn't ever been so rough with him, he doesn't think, or at least remember - he fought back a little, but normally gave in.

The guilty feeling settles deep in aching bones and he brushes it away to focus on the  _facts._

He normally doesn't feel this bad until he's alone with too many drugs and a shit ton of booze, but today has offered new experiences the whole ride through.

Morty notices him right away and his eyes almost pop out of his head with shock and animalistic terror; like he'd chew his own leg off to escape whatever fate the  _king_ (Rick would show him who really ran the fucking universe), had in store for him. Morty just stands there for a few seconds, pale and sweaty before turning to Rick to beg for a way out, and Rick's still staring at the freak who'd inadvertendly fucked with the most powerful man in the multiverse.

His skin is the same colour of Rick's hair, and Rick hates that any part of him is related to the king in any way.

He shoots a portal into a grimy wall, pushing Morty through before going through himself. Morty turns his back from the wall as though the freak could walk through the bricks and come after him, and Rick takes advantage of Morty's unwillingness to look to make another portal.

The bean is dead and though Rick would have liked to see him suffer, he doesn't like seeing Morty suffer  ~~~~(at least not by someone else's hand and, shit, that isn't fair to the kid is it?).

He turns around, maybe to see the extent of the damage but Morty is already gone and that speaks for itself. 

He tosses his flask aside - the drink he had put in there isn't working, so he needs something stronger, something better to destroy the  _feelings_ inside him before he has to identify them. He pulls out his whiskey, taking one sip then five. He's waffling between anger and the urge to be nice, and he can't help but stare at where Morty had cowered before.

_Why's Morty running away from him?_

Maybe it isn't him, maybe it's from the situation, but Morty isn't supposed to run from Rick. Rick's the _solution_.

Anger curls in his chest, hot and strong because it isn't his fault, it's - it's-

It's _Morty's_ , it has to be, with his wide eyes and awkward smile, of course something like this happened! And, God, it's validating that Rick's not the only one who sees it (even if he had to kill the fucker for doing so), because it's not  _him_ at fault. Next time he just has to be more careful, more watchful because Morty draws attention and it's all his fault. He slams his head on the counter.

Once.

Twice.

It clears his head so he can drink it into a haze of nothingness all over again.

His eyes are burning and he feels like he's lying to himself but he's not sure how.

 

*

 

Beth and her idiot destroyed the house while he and Morty were out. Rick's not surprised, but he's not too enthusiastic about having to deal with their whining and complaining about his box, like they aren't the ones who actually caused the mess.

Morty manages to smile, even laugh a little, but Rick can tell. Even Morty’s parents can’t see it, how he holds himself differently - maybe they just don’t care.

Rick cares. He thinks he does, if only because Morty is soft and warm and sounds so pretty when he begs.

Morty takes longer in the shower, that night.

Rick has too much time on his hands to be noticing that the water isn’t cutting off after fifteen minutes, running out long enough that the water has to be freezing.

Morty still doesn’t get out.

”M-morty?” His hands are clammy, and he wipes them on his pant leg. “You - you alright in there, lil’ buddy?”

There’s a muffled squeal, the sound Morty makes when he’s been scared out of his own fantasy world, his head spinning as it made it’s way back to Earth. 

“I’m fine!”

It’s normally endearing but Rick doesn’t know how to deal with what happened. He’s done what he does best - exacted revenge - but Morty is sensitive. He doesn’t know if it’ll be enough.

(He wonders, for a moment, why he even cares, but it’s  _Morty_ and that’s explanation enough.)

The water stops and Rick walks to his room with quick steps, just so Morty doesn’t see how feel-y he is.

 

*

 

Rick gets drunk.

He gets fucking wasted, and he’s three bottles and two smokes into a good time when Morty shuffles into his room like he doesn’t know what will happen (and Rick has to remind himself that,  _no, he really doesn’t know,_ before he says something he’ll hate himself for in the morning).

”R-rick?” He’s so quiet, his exuberance and confidence from the morning draining out of his body in the quiet of Rick’s room. “Can I tell you - can I stay in here, tonight?”

Rick’s mind goes straight to something darker than what’s happening - a child, a baby coming to him for help, why is he so  _fucked? -_ but he’s too drunk to pay what conscience he has any attention.

”S-sure, ba- Morty,” fuck, he hadn’t thought about Morty coming to him at all, but he should have because who else could Morty turn to?

Morty’s expression doesn’t brighten but there’s a spring in his step as he rushes to take advantage of Rick’s good mood and get the attention and reinforcement he craves just as much as Beth does.

Rick shifts in his bed so Morty has more room, and half a dozen empty bottles fall off the mattress.

Morty just smiles, eyes teary because he’s still little and scared by the monster in his closet.

(Only, his monsters are a lot more real - Rick knows this for a fact).

Morty curls up next to him (just like Rick knew he would, he always knows) and Rick let’s his hands splay across Morty’s back in a way that screams  _possession._

Rick isn’t tired, not even remotely; the poison in his system is setting his blood on fire and his fingers twitch in response.

"Rick?” Morty’s already crying - he’s probably come from a night-terror and he needs to let his emotions out after this stuff happens to him, Rick knows that, how could he not - but he can’t bring himself to stop.

He wants it, he wants it, he wants it, and Morty can take what he has to give like he always does. The kid won’t hurt for long and he’ll still come to Rick, of course he will.

Rick can have his cake and eat it too, and Morty’s sweet and vanilla and so, so pretty... 

“Mooortyyy,” Rick buries his head in the crease where Morty’s neck meets his shoulder. “What a little tease...”

He doesn’t even mean to say it out loud but Morty chokes on a sob and he’s struck a nerve. Morty’s not hitting him, though, so all the adventures and love and his own fucked up mind must be on Rick’s side. Everything's on Rick's side and that's why this happens, because the universe must want it too. Rick's a big believer of making one's own destiny but,  _Jesus,_ this is too easy for it to just be him.

His fingers are inching down Morty’s boxer shorts, where he knows the old bruises have barely begun to heal when the alcohol catches up to him and he slumps forward, trapping Morty beneath him.

 

*

 

When Rick wakes up Morty is gone and his heart is pounding faster than it has before (even when running from death) because what if this is the one time where Morty tells Beth? He can make it go away but it’s more trouble than it’s worth and, as much as his little girl is like him, she can’t be heartless enough to not confront him about it. She can't be, but Rick can't be sure either.

People tend to be stupid and emotional and unpredictable, even if he's a genius.

He can’t deal with that now, he doesn’t want to have everyone pitted against him without him planning it first. He hates this, having to wake up and deal with his  _mistakes_ , because they make him feel so  _good_ and he won't stop making them but he has to deal with the parts he doesn't want.

~~At least the part of him that's sober, because he's a real monster, he is.~~

It’s early, so early that the sun isn’t even out, and no-one is awake. 

No cops arriving with sirens blaring, no crying Beth or shaken Morty. No-one. It's relief and worry tangled into one web of confusion and change. He's usually not so sloppy, usually plans this (and does that make it better or worse?) and he hates that he can't know. He can predict, he can guess, but he can't know and that's not okay. Not now, not when it costs him-

Costs him what?

His pride, his life, his family, Morty's love - no,  _no, bad-_

The silence is eerie and he wants to break it.

He controls himself, and stumbles down the stairs to find his memory gun before things spiral into a different kind of mess than he wants to deal with. 

Morty’s in his room, brow furrowed in his sleep. Rick taps him awake and is almost sober enough to hate the way Morty flinches at his touch. He doesn’t waste any time, pointing the gun and pulling the trigger before crushing Morty to the bed as his limbs give out again.

Morty lets out a squeak, probably assuming that Rick has passed out drunk in his room again. Rick doesn’t know and he doesn’t care, but it feels nice when Morty instinctively cuddles into him to get more heat.

Morty might remember the Jellybean - Rick’s really eyeballed the setting of the memory gun, this time - but as long as Morty doesn’t know about him, it’s fine. It's perfect, and maybe Rick can be prepared for nightmares in the future and plan a little more because today - yesterday - was too fast. He likes the long game and the short game equally, but he likes to be in on the rules too.

Ignorance has to be bliss - Rick wouldn't know.

What Morty doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and what he does probably will.

Just as long as it isn’t Rick’s fault.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ill edit this in the morning because my laptop is refusing to work and i’m uploading from my phone.
> 
> comments and kudos please my dears! I feel like my recent works aren’t being liked as much and it’s a bit draining thinking that i’m creating something for people who’d rather not see it, so tell me what you’re thinking!


End file.
